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Stephen Van Rensselaer Thayer. 



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A SERMON 

TO THE 

First Congregational Society in Lancaster, Mass., 
October 22, 1871. 



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BOST 

PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON. 
1871. 



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•nS 



IN MEMORY 



STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER THAYER. 



Born August 2, 1847. 
Died October 10, 1871. 



SERMON 



"A good name." — Eccles. vii. I. 

J\ NY one's having a name, either good or bad 
in itself, yet a name of his own, signifies that 
he is a person; nor is it easy to conceive of men 
being sunk so low as to have no personal names at 
all, and knowing each other apart only by sight. 
When you call any man by his name, you speak to 
his very self; you single him out from all other 
human beings who have ever lived, or ever will 
live. And by answering to his name, as Adam 
answered to the voice in the garden, he confesses 
that he is a person, an immortal soul, who must 
answer for himself. His answering to that name 
through life is a constant reminder to him that he 
is his own self, has his own place in the world, and 
his own duty, which no one can do instead of him; 
experiences of his own, too; a history of his own; 
hopes, fears, joys, sorrows, temptations, sins, strug- 
gles, failures, successes of his own. The mention 
of any man's name to those who know him recalls 



instantly to their remembrance the man, his per- 
sonal appearance and his moral attributes. In 
short, " our name is ourself, in our own thoughts 
and in the thoughts of others; and nothing can 
separate it from our existence." 

In the beginnings of society, each name must 
have been original with the person bearing it, was 
probably significative, and not an arbitrary sound 
merely; and with rare exceptions it was a single 
one for each individual. But with multiplying pop- 
ulations and increasing refinement came repetition 
and complexity. Long since arose our present 
custom of joining to the name distinguishing the 
individual a second, or family name. We seem to 
think much more, in these days, of the latter than of 
the former, of the surname than of the name. Yet 
was there a period when only a few had surnames, 
and these w 7 ere at first written not in a direct line 
after the fore-name, but above it, — an over-name; 
while alike in our most affectionate intercourse 
with each other, and in such solemn acts as bap- 
tism and marriage, — which, if any, ought to have 
the force of a sacrament with us, and in which the 
name is the thing in question, — we do, wittingly or 
unwittingly, give the proper consequence to that 
which is indeed the name, by pronouncing it and 
not the surname. The former being imposed ac- 
cording to the first of Christian rites, we call it 



sometimes the given, and sometimes the Christian 
name, though it may have been derived from some 
other than a Christian source. 

As the object of individual names is to identify 
men and to distinguish them from each other, it is 
to be regretted that we should restrict ourselves to 
so small a range in our choice as we do. A multi- 
tude of names now almost obsolete, some of them 
"bearing a perfume in the very mention," might 
well be revived. It has been said that no English 
fore-name is distinctive of the people. There seems 
to be no reason why new names significant and 
comely should not be invented. A variety of mo- 
tives seem to influence parents in their selection of 
names for their children, — a good sound, to mark 
good wishes, interesting historical associations, 
some possible connection between a happy name 
and a good fortune. An ancient sect taught that 
the minds, actions, successes of men were accord- 
ing to their names as well as their genius and fate; 
and Plato recommended great carefulness to give 
happy or fortunate names. It was once usual in 
baptism to wish expressly that the children might 
discharge their names: "Mayest thou increase, and 
mayest thou fulfil this name." Whatever may be 
the influence of names in the formation of charac- 
ter, any inevitable correspondence between the 
character or career of any person and his name has 



8 

been sadly disproved, from the time of the wise 
Solomon's Rehoboam ( an enlarger ) or David's 
Absalom (father of peace, or father's peace) down 
to the present day. 

Still let us be careful to give our children good 
names, happy names, — names which the}' will not 
seek to exchange from shame to bear them. For 
though the very purpose of proper names would be 
lost were they to be frequently changed, and though 
it may be that " neither good names do grace the 
bad, neither do evil names disgrace the good; the 
good having no virtue in them to make men better, 
nor the insignificant to make any worse," — yet 
plainly no man should be bound, nor woman either, 
by any ridiculous, perhaps profane, choice which 
others may have made for them. 

But it is less difficult to find " a good name " in 
this sense, than as the phrase is used in Scripture; 
far less difficult to get a name than to establish a 
character. 

"A good name," says the sacred proverb, "is 
rather to be chosen than great riches," and shows 
what it means by w a good name " in the parallel 
line, "and loving favor rather than silver and gold." 

And the Ecclesiastes, in our text, declares that it 
is better than "precious ointment," or perfume; add- 
ing elsewhere that "as dead flies corrupt the savor 
of the ointment, so doth a little folly his that is in 
reputation for wisdom and honor." 



We may well be thankful, my friends, for every 
name known, perhaps familiar to us, which is 
"good" in both meanings of that word. Such a 
name is in our thoughts, and not unfittingly on my 
tongue to-day, of which I may speak, not for mere 
propriety's sake, but under the pressure of many 
tender and precious memories, out of the abun- 
dance of my heart to all your hearts; for it is a 
name intimately associated through two generations 
with the highest welfare of this town, and with 
which the honor of this sanctuary is fragrant; re- 
membering, indeed, that the place where we stand 
is of a dedication so high and holy that it should 
sound but seldom and lightly with our eulogy of 
human names. And yet it may rightly so, when- 
ever this is to the quickening of any good in us, 
and to the praise of God in the virtues and graces 
of His children. 

Nearly a quarter of a century ago I came here 
to be ordained as your minister. I brought to the 
home which was opened to receive me, as freely 
and affectionately as if it had always been my 
own, the joyful tidings of the birth of an heir to 
the name, and, if God pleased, to the virtues of the 
house; of the good and venerable man, already 
translated, but whose praise was in all the churches, 
and whose influence was yet quick and strong, even 
as in life, — to those survivors on whose ears from 

2 



IO 

childhood's memory the harmony of his voice, with 
no equal, yet lingered, as it still lingers; of her vir- 
tues, too, whose spirit had not then entered into the 
heavenly recompense of the faithful, who carried 
every member of this parish in her mind and in 
her heart, who looked with such tender love as 
well as so wisely and carefully to the ways of her 
household, and whose children forsaking not her 
law, it was " an ornament of grace to their head, 
and chains," not of slavery, but " of glory about 
their neck," and who arose, as they rise up this day, 
and we with them, to call her blessed. 

Since I last spoke to you here, it has been my lot 
to be the messenger to that house of the end of the 
earthly life of which I announced the advent. I 
have also stood at the grave, as I stood at the cradle, 
with a keen sorrow and a disappointed hope, a 
sense of our personal loss, — for this good name was 
part of ours, — yet grateful for so much fruit from 
the early promise; grateful that the holy tradition 
of such an ancestry should have reached and been 
so fulfilled in its posterity, — that the original savor 
had flowed down into this latest offspring in our 
own day, of those whose seed it is declared shall 
be blest. 

Than the other line that mingled with this hon- 
ored one in the paternal descent of the young man 
of whom I speak, few, if any, in the country run 



II 

further back in the history of its landed proprietors; 
and from this branch of his family he received his 
truly Christian name, coupled with his maternal, — 
a name long associated with the title, even after its 
outlawry, of Patroon, and illustrious for patriot- 
ism, statesmanship, leadership in great works of 
internal improvement, and the patronage of various 
educational and charitable enterprises; for public 
munificence, and social position and relations; but 
not less for private worth and conduct. 

Truly our young friend had entered into the pos- 
session of " a good name," so far as this can be a 
matter of inheritance, and of every outward good 
which men are apt to desire. But the inherited 
name and position, gifts of fortune, physical supe- 
riority, whatever these may be worth, are not what 
have stirred more and more, from his early years, 
our growing love and respect for him. No; but 
that he had so soon learned to value these things at 
their true price, and see them at their real value; 
that, alluring as the pride and pomp and circum- 
stance of life must have been to him, even as they 
are save in our better moments to us all, he had 
turned away his eyes from beholding vanity, and 
that he preferred the " loving favor " he every- 
where won from old and young, from high and low, 
to " silver and gold." 

He must have felt the full force of the outward 
temptation, by how many in such a situation yielded 



12 

to, to become an idler or a mere seeker of pleasure. 
Yet not so did he luxuriate in his place, or wanton 
in his advantage. Neither did he boast of his 
place, nor view his commanding position with self- 
complacency, but with a grave and manly solici- 
tude. The modesty with which he sought to do 
kind deeds, and so many where these would be un- 
noticed and unknown, except by the persons whom 
his generosity blessed, is assurance that he meant no 
barter of his benefits for popular applause, but that 
he would rather "do good and lend, hoping for 
nothing again," would own his debt to humanity, 
and regarded himself not as an original proprietor, 
but as the steward only of a great trust, principal 
and interest, to be accounted for. 

He had good but not shining talents. But though 
one person may have received more faculty than 
another, more various and greater in amount, we 
judge no man by that original endowment, but 
every man by the use he makes of what he has. 
And as the honor and respect we pay must thus 
depend always on how any one has occupied his 
place and employed his gift or opportunity, so in 
the case before us our tribute is to the noble inten- 
tion and the earnest endeavor with which he of 
whom we are speaking was going forward to 
acquire 

" The reason firm, the temperate will, 
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill," 



13 

with which to " discharge his name " and fill the 
influential and responsible station to which it called 
him. 

Let me not even seem to represent him, how- 
ever, as if he never showed any imperfections. 
Faults, doubtless, had at times appeared in him; but 
they were not the faults of selfishness, — rather the 
superficial ones of a frank, unsuspicious, affection- 
ate, trusting, and generous nature, from which 
" our tears can wash him pure as he was born." 

"What is the chaff to the wheat?" "Speak 
nothing but good of the dead." Of what worth, 
now that they are dead, is any thing but the good 
that can be spoken? And so we instinctively 
weave the best wreath we can from their life to 
throw upon their grave. Their human frailties 
and infirmities seem to vanish amid the dust in 
which their forms are laid; and never have they 
been so dear or so near to us, never has their ex- 
ample shone so brightly before us as now. We 
gather up their incorruptible part: whatever virtue 
and whatever praise there is, we take it all up 
without loss, and cherish it and remember it, bear- 
ing it in the living urns of our hearts. Sometimes 
this may be little, but that little we recover. 

As we stood so lately at the solemn committal of 
the body of our young friend and companion to the 
earth, as it was, we felt how much indeed of him 



H 

was not there in that senseless clay; how much 
that consumption could not waste, or the grave 
cover; how much of the man was in himself, not 
in his fortune, — in his soul, not in his accidents. 

The flowers strown upon his bier were soon to 
wither: but the fragrance of his own generous deeds 
blended with, as it outlives, those transient odors; 
and the grateful tributes that mean more than out- 
ward beauty, abide in many a loving and never- 
forgetting heart. 

The leaves were falling with every breath of 
wind to the ground; but as each of these has only 
dropped away from the germ of a new bud, and 
will itself help to form the matter of the vegetation 
to follow, so, though his leaf has fallen, the soul 
that dwelt in it survives, and another body asso- 
ciated with the former, but not the same, shall be 
raised spiritual, incorruptible. 

The leaf sometimes falls before its time. Thus 
has he fallen, — as we say, prematurely, — though 
not so in the view of the All-wise; fallen just as 
he was beginning to run the race of his young 
manhood with alacrity and joy: and we must weep, 
if not for him, yet over the earthly hopes and expec- 
tations of him, which we must bury within our 
hearts, as we have consigned his dust to the sep- 
ulchre. But his good name is now sealed for ever 
here; and the "new" name that shall be given to 



is - 

him beyond, while it will express and mean all 
the thoughts of love and self-sacrifice that are writ- 
ten nowhere but in his own heart and in the books 
of God, — and so no other shall know the full 
meaning of it but the man himself, because none 
but he knows the secret experiences, struggles, and 
longings which went towards the making of it, — 
must it not also have some trace in it of the out- 
ward connections and experiences that have ob- 
tained in this life; and so shall it not express and 
mean all, not only that has been, but. what, with 
continued opportunity, would have been still fur- 
ther well done ? 

I have said, my friends, that this good name is 
part of ours. For let us not forget that as every 
single man has, more or less, a good or bad name, 
so has the town of our birth or adoption, so has 
the religious society to which we belong, — a name 
and repute of some sort, a certain character and 
standing, of which we should be jealous as of our 
own. What this is, or shall be, depends on our- 
selves; on our integrity, industry, enterprise, high- 
mindedness, manifested at home and abroad. We 
think with honest pride of what it has been. Is its 
K time-honored " standard rising or falling in our 
hands? As we bless the memory of those who 
have preceded us in the places we occupy, let us 
not give our successors cause to think meanly of us. 



i6 



Every man has his own gift to use for his own 
benefit and for the benefit of others; let him dili- 
gently and faithfully improve it: every man his 
own place to fill; let him fulfil it, fill it full; and let 
us all be joined with a common interest in what- 
ever may promote the common welfare and ad- 
vancement. 

Let no one say that what he can accomplish is 
insignificant. Nobody, no thing, is insignificant. 
Nothing good is ever lost. Our names may die, 
but it lives and grows and spreads, and goes down 
to unborn generations. The real difference of men 
is not in the largeness or dignity of their station or 
occupation. No man is blessed or saved, no man 
blesses or saves others, by his outward conditions, 
but by the qualities and dispositions of which he 
makes these the channels: through any condition the 
highest virtues man is capable of may flow. We are 
none of us so small that we cannot do our duty by 
God and our neighbors, and leave, when we die, a 
spot of this town somewhat better than we found it. 

Let me appeal especially to you who are the 
younger members of this ancient parish for your 
thorough loyalty to its precious and sacred trusts. 
These every year brings more and more into your 
hands. The fathers give place to you. Bear on 
the ark which they have borne. Be faithful to the 
principles which they have espoused. Yet let 






i7 

your law be one not of any stationary contentment 
with the present, but of constant improvement in 
all good things. Do as your fathers would do, — 
wise and good men, — were they in your position. 
As the world grows not only older, but, — as we hope 
and believe, — in many respects, wiser, let us use our 
liberty, as they used the same, to change, improve, 
develop. They, and those who ministered to them 
as pastors and teachers, waited in their service of 
the old truth and the new, honestly yet discreetly 
on the circumstances and needs of their times; and 
so long as those who come after them are as faithful 
and wise to use their own opportunities, as they, 
in their day, were to use theirs, the continuity shall 
remain unbroken of that common corporate life, 
common history, common allegiance, common in- 
terest, — of that "good name," in the thought of 
which we feel such a high and honorable self- 
respect. Amen. 



APPENDIX. 



[From the "Daily Evening Traveller," Oct. 14, 1871.] 

STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER THAYER. 

Before the same altar at which Mr. Thayer had pro- 
nounced his marriage vows his funeral bier has been 
laid in less jthan a twelvemonth ; so quickly has the joy 
of the bridal been succeeded by the grief of the burial. 

After a short sickness of a few weeks, that fine form, 
the type of manly strength and beauty, has passed from 
human sight. Death has rarely struck a more shining 
mark in our community. 

Just entering upon the pursuits of active life, Mr. 
Thayer was rapidly developing those capacities which 
would fit him admirably to fill the position of influence 
and responsibility which he seemed destined to occupy 
hereafter. He had passed through the stages of early 
youth and a college career without a blemish on his 
name, or any stain of vice, and at the last was fast real- 
izing the hopes of the most partial friends, giving the 
world the promise of an intelligent, upright, and useful 
man. 

He was of a singularly amiable and affectionate dis- 
position, and never failed to secure the esteem and 
strong attachment of any with whom he had to do in 



20 



any sphere of life, high or low. He won those of his 
own age by the cordially fraternal sweetness of his spirit, 
and he won his elders by the charm of a modest and 
deferential but manly bearing. He could not have had 
an enemy, and few of his age had more or warmer 
friends. Always genial and warm-hearted, he diffused 
sunshine and cheerfulness in both his homes, and in 
whatever social circle he entered. 

He was successful in gladdening the lives of those 
whose happiness was the object of his dearest wish and 
constant endeavor, and he seems never to have been the 
occasion of a sorrow to them except now, — the immeas- 
urable one of parting with him. He has left behind 
him deep grief, but also many bright and precious mem- 
ories, and none others. 

The rich and tender nature of this young man, fos- 
tered by the well-known influence of his immediate sur- 
roundings, developed itself into a fine generosity of 
heart and a prompt and open-handed charity. There 
were some who wept in sorrow over his grave, who had 
wept before, with very different emotions, in surprised 
thankfulness for the wealth of his sympathies, and the 
largeness of his bounty. He took delight in showing 
kindness and rendering service to whomsoever he might, 
preferring — such was the delicacy of his nature — that 
his left hand should not know what his right hand did. 
He will be missed by some who have never known how 
much they have owed to his secret hand. 

His life has been short, but favored and happy. The 
fruit-buds of a noble and beautiful^ch&racter were well 
set in him, and fully opened on earth : they are trans- 
planted to the Garden of the Lord above, for the ripening 
and the harvesting. 



21 



Let the Hebrew sage interpret for us this hard expe- 
rience : " He, being made perfect in a short time, fulfilled 
a long time. His soul pleased the Lord, therefore 

hastened He to take him away." 

G. P. 



[From the "Christian Register," Oct. 14, 1871.] 

STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER THAYER. 

Very few of the many friends who feel so profoundly 
the death of this young Christian gentleman really know 
how much has been lost or how much is left to them. 
His genial and hearty manner, his insatiable generosity, 
his complete integrity, and his ready sympathy are re- 
membered, indeed, by numbers which few of his age 
have been privileged to bless. The shock of the sudden 
loss is felt far beyond the large circle of his family and 
his intimates. Unspoken sympathy with those most 
bereaved flows in the tears of hosts of young associates, 
and rises in the heart of every one who ever met him. 

The almost unexampled change from the peculiarly 
brilliant hopes which his character, his constitution, and 
his circumstances seemed to make so sure, to the double 
affliction which leaves two households supported only by 
his memory instead of his presence, and by their faith 
in God instead of their hopes of him, — this sudden and 
fearful contrast makes sympathy especially intense and 
wide-spread. 

But the noblest and the truest thing that can be said of 
him is, that those who admired him so heartily and who 



22 



mourn for him so deeply never knew his best life. His 
generosity was too real and his sympathy too sensitive to 
be either paraded or even allowed to be known. Not 
one, I think, of all the classmates who recognized him 
as their leader throughout their college course, and 
unanimously chose him as their favorite at the end of it, 
ever knew how secretly and indirectly his charity was 
constantly administered among them. Not long ago, he 
regularly met a class of the most outcast children in an 
obscure mission school. It was only after months of 
this work, which he begged to be allowed to do, that 
even his immediate family discovered where his Sunday 
afternoons were spent. "It would seem so foolish," said 
he, " for me to be setting up to be good." 

The life that was seen of all men has left, indeed, a 
memory and an inspiration which make death no with- 
drawal of his influence ; but what is lost, and what is 
left, the affliction of his death and the inspiration from 
his life, grow greater for those mourners who know that 
the beautiful life that shone for the world to see was only 
the reflection of a more spiritual one ; that the life before 
men which won him so many friends was but one side 
of the life before God which has won him heaven. By 
his going away, the Comforter, the Spirit of truth, the 
knowledge of the real and full beauty of his life, has 
come to us ; and it will stay. 



2 3 



CLASS RESOLUTIONS. 

The following Resolutions were adopted at a meet- 
ing of the Class of 1870, Harvard University, to 
pay respect to the memory of their beloved class- 
mate, Stephen Van Rensselaer Thayer, October 12, 
1870: — 

Since God has been pleased to call away from this 
life him whom we loved as our friend, and honored more 
than young men usually honor one of their associates, 
let us bow with submission to His will. 

In this bereavement it is with comfort that we call to 
our minds those virtues and that generous character 
through which he has so much endeared himself to us. 
A Christian man, always cheerful and genial as a com- 
panion ; ready and even eager to assist those who 
required assistance ; ever truthful himself, and disdainful 
of meanness on the part of others ; as a classmate, 
generous and charitable, — he was esteemed by all. 
With his intimate friends full of humor and kindness, 
bringing cheerfulness and welcome wherever he went ; 
always exerting a good and kindly influence. 

Though full of sorrow, let us not forget those upon 
whom this affliction falls most heavily : his parents, from 
whom he inherited so many noble traits of character; 
her whom he took as his wife, less than one short year 
ago (and who has watched over him in his last illness 
with such patient and tender care, at the same time 
bringing cheer and hope to his anxious and sorrowing 
relations and friends) ; his brothers and sisters, to whom 



2 4 

he was so good a friend and adviser. To all these we 
offer the deepest sympathy of our hearts. Let us also 
hope and pray that his young son, who now bears his 
name, may also possess the character of his father, the 
loss of whom we now so deeply mourn, and whose 
memory we so highly prize. 

Although cut off in early manhood and when the 
future looked so bright, we learn how much good he has 
done in so short a life ; and we feel that it is by the num- 
ber of good deeds, and not by the number of years, that 
life is made valuable. 

T. Parsons, Chairman. 
A, A. Lawrence, Secretary-, 



